


Where In the World is Derek Hale?

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Insecurity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Derek Hale, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Feels Guilty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: It had been four days.Four days since the incident. And he hadn’t heard from Derek once since then.They’d been out fighting the most recent big bad, because Beacon Hills was a fucking magnet for bad things coming to town. They’d been in the middle of the fight, and Derek had told Stiles to run, which he hadn’t, because fuck you Derek Hale. So he hadn’t run, which ended up being a good thing, because he ended up saving Derek’s life.When they’d won, the two of them dirty and panting, Derek had rounded on him and proceeded to shout at him for being stupid and reckless. Stiles had screamed back, and it had basically been a giant back and forth shouting match before Stiles had blurted out, “Because I fucking love your dumb, stupid face youidiot!” and had proceeded to kiss said idiot's dumb, stupid face.





	Where In the World is Derek Hale?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

_“This is Derek Hale. Leave a message.”_

The beep sounded and Stiles inhaled deeply before immediately hanging up. Letting out a groan, he dropped his phone on his desk and covered his face with both hands. This was quite possibly the most disastrous thing in the world to ever have happened to him, and he didn’t know what to do right now.

He’d ruined everything. He was going to have to move now. Get out of Beacon Hills, change his name, become one with nature. No, maybe not that last one, but the first two for sure!

Maybe he could be a Brian. Stiles thought he would make a pretty good Brian. Brian was a great name. People could _pronounce_  Brian. Go somewhere far, far away where not every single person in town knew who he was, and maybe Werewolves wouldn’t exist where he went and he could, he didn’t even know. Be a farmer or something. Except he didn’t really like physical labour, so maybe not a farmer.

There was a knock at his door and he just grunted in confirmation that his dad could enter. He heard the door open behind him and a brief silence before the sheriff sighed.

“Still no call?”

“No!” Stiles whipped around in his chair, slapping one hand against the back of it. “He _still_  hasn’t called! His phone keeps going to voicemail and I keep chickening out before leaving one!” He pouted a little. “This is bad, right? Like, this is a bad thing, right? Shit.” Stiles turned back to his desk and slammed his head down on it.

It hurt. A lot. But nowhere near as much as his chest did.

“Give him some time,” his dad said softly from behind him. “He’s been through a lot.”

“And I just made it _worse_!”

“Stiles, he’s known you for five years, he probably didn’t expect what happened to happen. You know how Derek gets, he’ll come to you when he’s ready to discuss it.”

Stiles just let out a whine and heard his dad approach. The man reached out to rub his back, then patted it once before saying he was heading to work. Stiles grunted in response, aching forehead still pressed against the wooden surface of his desk, and listened to his dad leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

It had been four days.

Four days since the incident. And he hadn’t heard from Derek once since then.

They’d been out fighting the most recent big bad, because Beacon Hills was a fucking magnet for bad things coming to town. They’d been in the middle of the fight, and Derek had told Stiles to run, which he hadn’t, because fuck you Derek Hale. So he hadn’t run, which ended up being a good thing, because he ended up saving Derek’s life.

When they’d won, the two of them dirty and panting, Derek had rounded on him and proceeded to shout at him for being stupid and reckless. Stiles had screamed back, and it had basically been a giant back and forth shouting match before Stiles had blurted out, “Because I fucking love your dumb, stupid face you _idiot_!” and had proceeded to kiss said idiot's dumb, stupid face.

Derek had stood there frozen while Stiles kissed him, both hands on his face, pulling him closer. Once he realized Derek wasn’t reciprocating, he was filled with dread. Not only because Derek obviously didn’t feel the same way, but because he knew, Stiles _knew_  that people often did things like this with Derek without his consent. People often touched him, or kissed him, or basically just... used his body without his consent, and he felt _awful_  about having done the same thing.

He shouldn’t have kissed him. He shouldn’t have just _done_  it like he had, and it made him feel like he was going to throw up.

He’d pulled away, apologized profusely while stumbling backwards, and had run back to the Jeep feeling like shit, not to mention a little humiliated. His only saving grace was that nobody but Derek was present to see his rejection.

And he knew _Derek_  wouldn’t tell anyone.

But now he hadn’t heard from him. It had been four days since that evening, and he hadn’t heard from Derek at all. He’d sent him numerous texts, all with varying degrees of apologies, and insistence that this didn’t have to change anything. Stiles was fine being friends. He really liked hanging out with Derek.

Over the past few years, they’d gotten really close. They were actually friends. It was possible to be friends with Derek Hale, who knew? Hell, most days, Stiles felt like he and Derek were closer than he and Scott were.

Not to say he wasn’t still best friends with Scott, it was just... Derek seemed to care more. He didn’t drag Stiles into messes once everything had already gone to shit, like Scott did. Derek involved him from the beginning to _avoid_  things turning into messes he’d have to be dragged into. And Derek made time to hang out with Stiles, whereas Scott seemed to forget that friendships went both ways. It was always Stiles touching base or showing up or making plans. Scott just sat back and waited on him.

Stiles knew his close friendship with Derek was what had started the _feelings_  in the first place. He’d always been kind of attracted to Derek, he could admit it. Even back when he’d hated him, he’d still found him attractive. But—he’d _hated_  him so, really, it was kind of one of those being-into-an-actor things. He thought Derek was pretty, but he’d never want to be with him, because he was such a fucking dick.

But eventually, that changed. Derek stopped being a dick, started being kinder, and someone Stiles liked hanging out with. They went to see movies, they got lunch together, they hung out doing research, Derek helped him with his Spanish homework when he was stupid enough to take that course in university.

They _fit_. They were so good together. Stiles even crashed on Derek’s couch every now and then _and_  he’d been allowed to drive the Camaro to school for _two whole weeks_ when his Jeep had conked out.

How was it possible for Stiles to resist? He’d fallen for Derek, and he’d fallen _hard_. But, he also valued their friendship, so he’d been reigning it in as hard as he could. He fought to keep it buried deep, to not ruin what they had, to pretend the feelings weren’t there.

So to have them come out like they had, he felt like he’d ruined everything. He’d broken Derek’s trust by kissing him without his permission, and he’d destroyed their friendship by admitting he wanted something more. Stiles hated himself for having done that. He just wanted things to stay how they were. He wanted to keep hanging out with Derek.

Which he hadn’t done in four fucking days.

Sighing, he pulled his phone closer without looking up, and once he had it gripped in one hand, he finally sat up, rubbing at his forehead with his other hand and staring down at it. He hesitated, then called Derek again, putting the phone to his ear.

It went straight to voicemail again. Stiles hung up before the beep sounded.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong. Maybe Derek didn’t believe he was being truly sincere in his apology. It would probably be best if he went to _show_  him how sincere he was. He could bring him some lunch. And a movie. They could hang out, maybe. And if Derek didn’t want to hang out, that was fine, Stiles could still bring him stuff, apologize in person, make Derek understand how _truly_  sorry he was.

Slapping his desk once, Stiles decided that was exactly what he was going to do. He shoved his phone in his pocket, made sure he had his wallet and keys, and then left his room. He went through a mental inventory of what to get for Derek while heading down the stairs and was out of the house and in the Jeep in record time.

His first stop was the Chinese place a few blocks from the high school. It was fairly old, but Derek was _obsessed_  with the place. Stiles thought it was okay, but apparently Derek ate Chinese food all the time in New York and he loved this place because it reminded him of good times with Laura. Stiles figured Laura could try and help him a little bit today.

Walking in, he ordered ginger beef, chicken corn soup and some chicken chow mein with a side of spring rolls. The woman confirmed it would be about twenty minutes, so Stiles paid and left to get other stuff while he waited. He went to the movie store next to find a few stupid movies he knew he’d hate but that Derek would love.

Strangely enough, Derek was really into rom-coms. Stiles had teased him mercilessly about it up until the first time they’d watched a horror movie and Stiles had completely lost his shit. Derek hadn’t made fun of him for it, so Stiles decided to be kinder about Derek’s rom-com love. It occurred to him only after a few months of watching movies together that Derek liked them because they were feel-good. Sure, they were cheesy and unrealistic, but that was what Derek seemed to like about them.

Watching movies where bad things happened to good people was just depressing, and they had enough bad things happening in real life. Watching two people awkwardly get together amid hilarity was so much better, and while Stiles didn’t particularly enjoy them, he could see their appeal. He certainly hated them a bit less when he looked at them the way Derek did, so that was a plus.

Wandering through the aisles, he ended up catching one of the employees and asking for advice on a good rom-com. Every one he was brought to Derek had already seen, but he knew one of them was his favourite so he grabbed that one and one of the newer ones from the new releases shelf. Paying for that, he left to go to the grocery store across the street, buying himself a bag of Twizzlers, along with some caramels for Derek and ice cream, because who didn’t like ice cream? Not even Derek, shockingly enough.

By the time he got back to the Chinese restaurant, the food was ready and he drove over to the loft. He was driving well below the limit, psyching himself up for this encounter and muttering a speech under his breath, trying to make sure he said the right thing. He knew it was pointless, because as soon as he got there, he’d forget every word of it, but still! It made him feel better to _try_.

When he reached the building, he frowned in displeasure at the realization that Derek wasn’t there. The Camaro was gone, so he’d likely gone out on an errand. Not a big deal, he figured he could park and head up. If Derek saw the Jeep and decided to stay gone for a while, well, Stiles could leave the food and movies and they could talk later.

Climbing out of the car and a little relieved he had more time to think on what he wanted to say, Stiles headed into the building and climbed the stairs, muttering to himself under his breath. When he got to the top, he paused at the sight of the loft door wide open. It wasn’t that Derek was the master of security or anything, but he usually _closed_  the door, at least.

Stiles approached slowly, hesitantly, and when he walked through the door, for a few seconds he couldn’t figure out what his eyes were seeing. His brain was telling him _exactly_  what his eyes were seeing, but it didn’t seem to be making any sense.

Everything was gone. The entire loft was empty. The couch, the television, the small table by the window. Everything was gone.

His first thought was that Derek had been robbed. His sluggish mind insisted that, clearly, someone had come by and seen all the neat stuff in this seemingly abandoned building and had stolen it all.

The more logical side of him knew that wasn’t the case. He knew that wasn’t what he was seeing, and that it wasn’t what had happened.

Walking slowly into the loft, Stiles looked around for any trace of furniture, but the entire bottom floor was empty. Even the fucking _fridge_  was gone. To be fair, it had been a nice, brand new fridge that Derek bought when he’d first moved in, but still. It was gone.

Climbing the steps to the second level slowly, Stiles could feel his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the landing, he just stood there, staring in at the large room that used to be Derek’s bedroom.

It _used_  to be his bedroom, because it was now just an empty space. The bed was gone. The night tables were gone. The dresser was gone. Everything was gone. The whole loft had been packed up and moved.

Derek had left. Stiles’ actions had literally made Derek flee Beacon Hills. He’d turned off his phone, packed up his shit, and left.

Stiles sat down exactly where he stood. He didn’t know what else to do. The bag was set down beside him, but he was so close to the stairs that it missed the floor and fell over the edge, the food and movies falling down to the level below.

He couldn’t bring himself to care, because Derek was gone. He’d literally driven him away. This was all his fault.

He was probably the only person Derek trusted. The _last_  person he’d ever trusted, and because of the heat of the moment, Stiles had ruined it all by crossing a line. He’d forced himself on Derek. _Derek_! Who’d practically been raped by Kate when he was a teenager, who’d had to endure additional harassment from her when she’d come back to town, who’d been _used_  by Jennifer, _and_  Braeden.

Stiles was probably one of the only people Derek thought he could be around who didn’t _want_  anything from him. Who didn’t want to take from him like so many other people had. Derek had trusted him, and Stiles had...

“Shit.” Stiles brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, feeling a hollow ache in his chest.

He was a lot of things, but he’d never thought he was a bad person. He’d never believed he was capable of being bad, Nogitsune notwithstanding. But this just proved that he was.

Derek was fucking _gone_.

Stiles couldn’t get over it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, the words echoing in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his psyche. Derek was gone because of him.

He had no idea how long he sat there. His back started aching, he was getting cold, and the sun was slowly beginning to set outside. He didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to move. He was sad for the friendship he’d just lost, but he was more horrified and ashamed of his own actions that had led to this happening.

Derek probably hated him. He probably wouldn’t ever read any of Stiles’ messages, wouldn’t know how truly _sorry_  he was for having kissed him like he had. Stiles knew better. He _knew_  better, but he hadn’t been thinking in that moment.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

His head jerked up at the alarm in the voice calling out to him, and he turned when he heard footsteps clambering up the stairs. The relieved look on his father’s face was almost lost in the darkness, Stiles not even realizing how much time had passed while he sat there.

“Jesus.” His father grabbed at him, half falling onto him in his attempt to sit down on the landing, and hugged him tightly. “Stiles, what is the _matter_  with you?” He pulled back, hands on his face, and gave him a small shake. “Do you have any idea how worried we all were?”

“What time is it?” Stiles asked, reaching up to brush the sleeve of his sweater over his face. He didn’t think he was crying, or at least, he didn’t _remember_  crying, but just in case.

“It’s almost ten. We’ve been looking for you for hours. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I didn’t know it was ringing.”

His dad gave him a weird look at that before sighing and pulling him back into a crushing hug. “Don’t do that, Stiles. You can’t do things like that. I’m just lucky I was able to track your phone.” He sighed again, still holding him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to bring Derek lunch,” he said softly, feeling hollow again. “But he’s gone. Dad, what I did made him leave town.”

“What?” The sheriff pulled back, giving him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

Stiles stared at him, wondering if he was blind, and motioned the room behind him. “Empty. Did you not notice it’s empty?”

His father looked around, and seemed to realize, quite startled, that it _was_  empty. “Huh.”

“I chased him away, dad. I did what everyone else has done to him, and he couldn’t handle it, and now he’s _gone_.”

“Stiles, Derek’s not gone, he’s the one who came to see me.”

Stiles was sure he was hearing things. “What?”

“He went to the house and was waiting for you to come back. When you didn’t for a few hours, he called Scott. When they called around and realized no one had seen or heard from you, Scott started trying to find you and Derek came to get me. We’ve been looking for you since four this afternoon. Have you been here all this time?”

He didn’t know what to say. If Derek was still in town, why was the loft empty? “Derek’s here?”

“Well, not _here_ , but Beacon Hills. He didn’t leave town, Stiles.”

Stiles let that sink in before hastily reaching for his phone. There was barely any battery left, but he called Derek, putting the phone to his ear, and frowning when it went straight to voicemail.

“It’s still going to voicemail.”

“He mentioned his phone was dead,” the sheriff said, obviously not realizing who Stiles was calling. “He had to call Scott from our landline. Said something about not being able to find his charger.”

The sheriff sighed and pulled his own phone out, dialling a number and putting it to his ear. Stiles noticed it said ‘Scott’ when he’d been bringing it up to his ear. He must’ve answered, because his father spoke.

“I’ve got him. He’s okay. I’m bringing him home. You can call off the others.”

Stiles could hear the relief in Scott’s tone from where he sat, and he felt guilty for making everyone worry. He just honestly hadn’t realized what time it was, and he still wasn’t sure he believed his dad when he said Derek was still there.

Why was his phone off? Why couldn’t he find his charger? Where was all his furniture? Where the hell was his _fridge_?

“Come on, son. Let’s get you home.”

Stiles’ entire body was stiff from being in the same position for so long, but he managed to get to his feet and followed his dad down the stairs. The bags of food and movies were still on the first level, and miraculously, none of the Chinese food had escaped the containers. His dad helped him gather everything up and they left the loft, the sheriff sliding the large door shut behind him.

None of this made any sense. Derek was in town, but the loft was empty. Derek had been waiting for him at his house? Why was Derek at his house? Probably to tell Stiles he was leaving town because he couldn’t bear to stick around anymore. Maybe he’d been there to say goodbye, and had realized something must be wrong.

Well, if nothing else, at least he’d kept Derek in town for a few more hours.

His dad walked him all the way to the Jeep, asking if he was sure he was okay to drive. Stiles assured him he was fine and got behind the wheel, setting the bags on the passenger seat. The sheriff went to the cruiser, and followed right behind him the entire way home.

Stiles’ stomach dropped when he saw the Camaro parked across the street from his house, Scott’s bike in the driveway. He pulled into his spot, his dad parking on the curb, and the front door was open before he’d even stopped the car.

Derek was coming down the porch steps with Scott almost leaping over him, the two of them hurrying to the Jeep. Derek got there first, wrenching open the door and looking Stiles up and down urgently.

“Are you okay? What happened? Where were you?”

“Did someone kidnap you?” Scott asked, muscling his way closer and forcing Derek against the inside of the door. “Do we need to go after someone? Is there something here we should know about?”

“Let him breathe, Jesus.” The sheriff appeared behind them, pulling at the back of Scott’s shirt to get him to back off. He motioned for Derek to move, and while it was clear he didn’t want to, he backed up a few steps, eyes still searching Stiles’ face.

Stiles really didn’t understand what was going on. He was just glad Derek was here, and that his dad had made them both pull away. He turned to grab the bags from the passenger seat, then climbed out of the Jeep, leading the way to the house with his dad, and feeling the eyes burning into the back of his skull.

He really wished Scott wasn’t here, because he didn’t know how to have this conversation with Derek with an audience. It would be hard enough with his dad there, he really didn’t need Scott there, too.

When they all walked into the house, Stiles headed straight for the kitchen. The two wolves followed him while his father muttered something about protective idiots before disappearing into the living room. He obviously knew Stiles needed space, but figured it was up to him to tell Scott and Derek that.

Setting the food on the table, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast around nine and he was fucking _starving_. Figuring there was no point in letting the food he’d bought go to waste, he went to grab himself a plate, then hesitated and grabbed two more. Scott and Derek obviously weren’t going anywhere.

He went back to the table, handing them both their plates without looking at them, then began to pull all the containers out. Scott went to get cutlery and they served themselves in silence, though he _did_  notice Derek frowning, as if realizing all the dishes were his favourites, and not Stiles’.

Stiles fell into his usual seat and began to eat. Scott did, as well, but Derek just sat across from him trying to burn holes into his forehead.

“What’s going on?” Derek finally asked, still not having touched his food. It was probably a good thing, considering it was cold and Stiles found it kind of gross while cold.

“Just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Derek asked, frowning in confusion.

“You’re leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” Scott demanded incredulously, turning to Derek. “When? _Why_?”

“I’m not leaving,” Derek insisted, sounding utterly confused. “Why do you think I’m leaving?”

“Your loft is empty.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Scott asked, surprised.

Stiles turned to him with a frown. “Tell me what?”

“It was kind of meant to be a surprise,” Derek said with a sigh, like Scott was the _worst_  at keeping secrets. Not inaccurate. “Stiles, I’m not leaving. Why would you think I was leaving?”

“Because of what I did.”

“What did you do?” Scott asked.

Derek was staring at Stiles exceptionally hard, then he sighed and shook his head before turning to Scott. “Can you go hang out with the sheriff? And maybe not eavesdrop for once in your life?”

Scott looked extremely confused, but he just gave Stiles another concerned look, then stood and grabbed his plate, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room. A few seconds later, the television’s volume increased. Bless his dad, really, because it was obvious he was doing that to avoid Scott listening in.

“Stiles, why did you think what you did meant I was leaving?” Derek asked softly, looking confused, and also concerned.

“Because I did it without your permission.” Stiles blurted out. “I’m sorry, Derek. I’m so, _so_  sorry. I know that everyone always touches you and does things to you without your consent, I know that you’ve had to endure a lot, and I was someone who was never supposed to break that trust, and I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll never do it again, I won’t. I promise, it won’t happen again. Please just–just don’t go. You’re my friend, you’re _so_  important to me. Please don’t leave because of what I did, I’m sorry.”

When he paused to take a breath, more words ready to spill out, Derek half-stood and reached across the table, covering his mouth with one hand and smiling a little bit.

“You need to stop that right now,” he insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong, and the fact that you think you did means more to me than you can imagine.”

“But I kissed you without permission,” Stiles said behind Derek’s hand.

“Yes, you did, but the second you realized what you’d done, you immediately pulled away and apologized. Then you ran away before I could even say anything.” Derek took his hand off Stiles’ mouth and sat back down, still smiling a little. “Stiles, I’m not leaving town. Yes, the loft is empty, but it’s not because I’m leaving. I actually came over here today because I wanted to talk to you.” He moved his plate aside, still not having eaten a bite of it, and pressed his hands flat against the table, staring down at them instead of looking at Stiles. “I’m not great with words. Or with people. But I’ve always been able to talk to you. I’ve always felt comfortable with you. Even at the beginning, when I was alone, and I had no one I could rely on, somehow I knew that you’d have my back.”

Derek laughed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, but keeping his eyes on the table.

“When I got shot with that wolfsbane bullet and I was looking for Scott to help me, I never found him. But I _did_  find you, and normally, the thought of a human helping me, of being near me when I was that vulnerable, was something I never would’ve entertained. But I saw you, and I knew you would help me. I didn’t know _how_  I knew, I just did. So I stepped out in front of the Jeep, and just as predicted, you helped me. You weren’t happy about it, but you did it. You helped save my life. And the more time we spent together, the less I hated you. And the less you hated me. And as time passed, we became friends. You’ve been there for me in more ways than you can imagine.”

He hesitated, then let out a slow breath and glanced up at Stiles. “Did you know that you’re my anchor?”

Stiles frowned. “No I’m not, anger is your anchor.”

“Do you think I’ve been angry lately?”

When Stiles went to answer, he paused, because he realized that... no. He hadn’t been angry lately. Derek hadn’t been angry for a long time.

“You’re my anchor, Stiles. You have been for-for years. And I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. I’ve enjoyed it a _lot_. And the more time we spent together, the more I started realizing that maybe the reason I’ve always felt comfortable around you was because this thing between us is something more than just friendship.”

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest. He knew Derek could hear it, because his eyes had risen from the table and were locked on his chest. Hell, he was sure _Scott_  could hear it over the loud ass television in the other room!

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Derek finally admitted quietly, almost hunching his shoulders, like he was so used to bad news he was waiting for Stiles to take back what he’d said four days ago. “I was just scared of ruining this, what we had, our friendship. Because I ruin everything I touch. So I didn’t want to say anything. I never wanted it to come out, so I kept it buried. It’s why I get so mad when you go off and do something dangerous on your own. Why I get so protective of you when anything new comes to town looking to hurt people. Why I don’t like it when you’re out clubbing with Lydia and Scott. Because I love you, and I care about you, and I can’t lose you. So when you told me you loved me, when you kissed me, I was positive it wasn’t real. I thought it was a dream. But a dream wouldn’t have apologized and run away, and by the time I realized it was real, that you’d said the words, that I hadn’t imagined it, you were already gone.”

This was a lot to take in. Stiles felt like his brain was turning to mush inside his skull. Derek loved him? Like, honest to God loved him? Someone Stiles liked actually liked him back?

“But the loft is empty,” he said numbly, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Derek let out a small laugh, eyes finally shifting up to Stiles’ face. “Yeah, it is. After you left and I went home, I kind of... re-evaluated parts of my life. If I wanted to make this work with you, I needed to be more than just the born Werewolf who lived in a loft above an abandoned train station and paid for everything with his parents’ life insurance. I wanted to become a contributing member of society, someone that you wouldn’t be embarrassed to introduce to people.”

“I’d never be embarrassed,” Stiles said, feeling like he was floating. He had no idea what was going on right now, but if this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

Derek laughed. “Good to know, but I still wanted to try a bit more. So I started looking around and I bought a house.”

“You bought a house,” Stiles repeated.

“Yeah.” Derek smiled, looking both pleased and embarrassed. “It’s not as big as my old house was in the preserve, but it’s in a good neighbourhood with a lot of land between the houses, so I have neighbours but I also have privacy. It backs onto the woods, so we can still go out on the full moon and have a good time without worrying about people seeing us. It’s been on the market for a few months, so the owners were happy to finally sell it. Because I didn’t need to go through financing, I basically got the keys the next day and Scott and Liam helped me move all of my stuff in. I’ve spent the past few days trying to unpack while going around dropping off my resume for a job. Got a few emails, so I’m going in for interviews over the next couple of days.”

“But you didn’t answer your phone,” Stiles insisted, still positive this wasn’t happening.

“I can’t find my charger.” Derek scowled now. “I know it’s in one of the boxes in my bedroom, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out where the damn thing is. It’s why I’m glad I put my email down on my resume, God only knows how many calls I’ve missed. It’s also why I ended up coming over today. I kept wanting to call you, but I couldn’t, and I figured after four days you’d start panicking about the radio silence. Looks like I was right.”

Derek was smiling again, looking pleased that he knew Stiles so well. Stiles himself was still a little floored.

“You’re not leaving.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You moved into a new house. For me.”

“I did.”

“And you’re getting a job.”

“Hopefully, we’ll see what happens.” Derek shifted slightly in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. “Since you know about the loft, is that—were you there all this time?”

Stiles looked down at the half-eaten food on his plate, mind still reeling. “I broke your trust. I felt bad about it. I went to get you some lunch, and a stupid rom-com, and some dessert.” He frowned. “The ice cream is probably soup by now.”

Derek smiled and leaned forward, reaching out one hand and placing it on top of Stiles’, brushing his thumb against his skin. “You did that for me.”

“Yeah.”

“Because you thought I was mad at you.”

“Yeah.”

“Because you felt like you did something wrong.”

“I _did_  do something wrong.”

Derek let out a small laugh. “And that right there is why I love you.”

Derek stood up out of his chair, and for a second, Stiles panicked that he was about to leave and calculated how far it was to the jar of mountain ash in the pantry, because he couldn’t let him leave until he apologized himself to forgiveness.

But Derek didn’t leave. He moved around the table, reached out with one hand to press it against Stiles’ cheek, and bent down to kiss him.

It was everything their first kiss should’ve been. Warm, and soft, and more open and vulnerable than either of them had ever let themselves be in front of another person. Derek’s stubble was scratchy against Stiles’ chin, and his hands were calloused where he touched his face, but it was still perfect. This was perfect.

_Derek_  was perfect.

When he pulled away, he smiled and brushed his thumb lightly against Stiles’ cheek. “I love your dumb, stupid face too, you idiot.”

A laugh tore its way up Stiles’ throat and he punched lightly at Derek’s chest before grabbing his shirt in both hands and pulling him back in for another kiss. He made sure to do it in a way that Derek could resist or refuse if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He just dove right back in, opening his mouth and prodding at the seam of Stiles’ lips with his tongue.

So maybe Stiles had done something wrong those four nights ago when he’d kissed Derek without his permission, but apparently apologizing and being honest about what he’d done was exactly why Derek liked him in the first place.

And if kissing Derek, then apologizing to him for kissing him was all Stiles had to do to get Derek to admit he was in love with him too, well shit, Stiles should’ve done it years ago.

He was going to have to make up for all the lost kissing they could’ve been doing. It was a good thing Derek owned a house, Stiles didn’t think he should spend much time under his dad’s roof if Derek was going to be kissing him like this.

Oh the fun they were going to have, christening every room in Derek’s new home.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


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